Читать книгу Dreams of Forever: Seduction, Westmoreland Style - Brenda Jackson - Страница 13

Chapter 3

The nerve of the man, Casey thought as she slipped into the soapy water in the huge claw-foot bathtub. Why didn’t he understand English? How many times did she have to say she didn’t want to work for him to make herself clear?

She settled back against the tub and closed her eyes. The man was simply infuriating and like she’d told him, he would be the last person she worked for. She would consider going to work for Cal Hooper first, even though that man made her skin crawl each and every time he looked at her. At least she could defend herself against the likes of the Cal Hoopers out there, thanks to all those self-defense classes her brothers had made her take over the years.

But when it came to McKinnon Quinn she was as defenseless as a fish out of water. There was just something outright mind-blowingly hot about a tall man in a pair of tight jeans, especially when he had a nice-looking rear end. Add to that an honest-to-goodness handsome face and any woman in her right mind would be a goner. Holy cow, she was only human!

She eased down farther in the water, wishing for the umpteenth time that she could get the man out of her mind. He had made her madder than a pan of hot fish grease yesterday with his how-great-thou-art attitude. But today he’d shown up offering her the job that he’d told her he wouldn’t hire her for. Well, that was too friggin’ bad. Like she told him, he could take the job and shove it for all she cared.

Deciding to rid her mind of McKinnon Quinn once and for all, she opened her eyes and glanced around. The room Abby had given her to use was simply beautiful. With all the silk draperies, cream-colored walls and extensive decorating, it was obvious the decor of the room had had a woman’s touch, as had the rest of the house. Corey’s ranch at one time may have been a man’s domain, but now it was evident that a woman was in residence, and that woman was Abby.

Abby.

From the first time she found out about her, Casey had figured she wouldn’t like the woman who held her father’s heart to the point where he hadn’t been able to love another woman—not even her own mother who had loved Corey Westmoreland until her dying day. But all it took was a few moments around Corey and Abby to know just how in love they were and probably always had been, even through his fifty-something years as a bachelor, and Abby’s fifteen-year marriage to a man she didn’t love.

Casey smiled. She had to admit that she had grown fond of the very proper Bostonian her father had married, who happened to be the mother of Madison, her cousin Stone’s wife. Since finding out the truth about her father, Casey had come to realize that she’d had a slew of relatives—more Westmorelands, cousins from just about every walk of life—and they had been genuine in opening both their friendship and their hearts to her and her brothers.

She glanced at the clock. Abby would be serving dinner in half an hour and dinner time, Casey discovered, was a big ordeal for Abby since she had a way of making things somewhat formal. So instead of wearing jeans like she usually did, it was during the evening meal that she would put on a skirt and blouse or a dress.

She eased out of the tub to dry off and her thoughts shifted back to McKinnon. She hoped she’d seen the last of him for a while. Although she wouldn’t work for him, she was determined to work for somebody. She could only accept her father and Abby’s hospitality for so long. Although she knew they wanted her to stay there with them, Casey only planned to live here for so long. She needed and wanted her own place.

She smiled, thinking that in a way her father and Abby were still newlyweds—or at least they acted like they were. More than once she had almost walked up on them sharing a very heated kiss. A part of her was happy for what they shared, but then those times had been a blunt reminder of what she didn’t have in her own life.

Although she had dated while living in Texas, most men hadn’t wanted what she’d been determined to one day be—a virgin bride. Most wanted to try out the goodies before committing and she refused to do that; especially after being fed from knee-high her mother’s storybook rendition of how romantic things had been for her and Corey.

Casey had been determined to find that same kind of special love for herself, and as a result, had decided the only man she slept with would be her husband. But since finding out the truth about her own parents, keeping her virginity intact hadn’t meant as much to her anymore. She just hadn’t met a man who’d drawn her interest enough to share his bed.

Her thoughts went back to McKinnon and she gritted her teeth, refusing to consider such a thing. The man was as exasperating as he was enticing. And at the moment, she had much more important things to think about—like finding a job.

She sighed and decided that after dinner she would return to her room. She had picked up a newspaper in town yesterday and intended to cover the Want Ads section. It was time she took control of her future. Making the decision to move to Montana to be close to Corey had been the first step. Now finding employment and a place to stay would be her second.

* * *

“I’m glad you took me up on my offer to stay the night, McKinnon,” Corey said, handing the young man a glass of some of his finest scotch. “Although you’re a skilled horseman, it’s too dangerous for you to attempt going back down that mountain this late. It would have been dark before you got to the bottom.” He then chuckled before tacking on, “And Morning Star and Martin would have my hide if anything were to happen to their oldest son.”

McKinnon grinned knowing that was true. He had a very special relationship with his mother and father, as well as his three younger brothers. Matthew was twenty-seven, Jason was twenty-five and Daniel was twenty-three, and all three were unattached with no thoughts of settling down any time soon.

It was hard for McKinnon to believe at times that Martin Quinn was actually his stepfather and not his biological father. He was in his teens when he’d been told that his natural father, a Creole of African-American descent, had died in a car accident before he was born, and that a pregnant Morning Star—a member of the Blackfoot Indian tribe, had gone to work for the esteemed Judge Martin Quinn as a bookkeeper, only to end up falling in love and marrying him before the child was born.

“So, how are things with the horse business?”

Corey’s question pulled McKinnon’s thoughts back. “They would be a lot better if I can get Casey to come work for me. I know I blew things yesterday but I had a reason for it. You know how I feel about another woman living at my ranch.”

Corey nodded. Yes, he did know but then they weren’t talking about just any other woman—they were talking about his daughter. He wasn’t born yesterday. He knew about the heated sparks that always went off when McKinnon and Casey were within a few feet of each other. In the past they had pretty much kept their distance but things wouldn’t be quite that easy here in Montana, especially since Corey and McKinnon’s parents were the best of friends.

“So how are you going to talk her into it?” he asked, knowing that McKinnon would make an attempt. When it came to the art of persuasion, biological or not, he was Martin Quinn’s son and Martin hadn’t moved up the ranks of powerhouse attorney to circuit judge in these parts without his persuasive nature.

Corey smiled. Poor Morning Star hadn’t known what had hit her all those years ago when she’d been talked into a marriage of convenience that had ended up being anything but that.

“Don’t know yet, but I won’t give up,” McKinnon said. “I promised Jamal that I would have that horse ready for him this fall, and I intend to do just that.”

“I hate to interrupt such important male conversation, but dinner is ready,” said a beautiful Abby Winters Westmoreland as she stuck her head in the door and smiled. “And Casey will be down in a minute.”

“We’ll be there in a second, sweetheart,” Corey said, smiling back at the woman he loved to distraction—had always loved.

McKinnon watched the loving exchange between Corey and Abby, which was similar to what he always saw between his parents. Some people were lucky to find their soul mate and spend the rest of their lives together in wedded bliss. He had long ago accepted that he wouldn’t be one of the lucky ones. His future was set without any permanent woman in it.

* * *

Casey hurried down the stairs knowing she was already a few minutes late for dinner. One of her brothers had phoned to see how she was doing. Even all the way from Texas, Clint and Cole were trying to keep tabs on her. She smiled thinking she was used to it and although she would never admit it to them, it felt good knowing they still cared about her well-being. Born triplets, the three of them had a rather close relationship, and by her being the youngest, Clint and Cole made it their business to try and be her keepers.

She moved quickly to the dining room and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw McKinnon sitting at the table. She tried to mask her displeasure at seeing him as he and her father stood when she entered the room. “McKinnon, I’m surprised you’re still here,” she said, trying to keep the cutting edge out of her voice.

She knew the smile that he gave her was only meant to infuriate her, but before he could respond her father offered an explanation. “It would have been too dangerous for him to try going back down the mountain this late, so I invited him to spend the night,” Corey said, once both men sat back down after she took a seat.

“Oh.” Casey tried not to show the cringe that passed through her body in knowing that McKinnon would be there all night. Just the thought that they would be sleeping under the same roof was nothing she wanted to think about. So she didn’t. As soon as grace was said and the food passed around, she tried concentrating on something else. “Everything looks delicious, Abby.”

Abby smiled over at her. “Thanks, Casey.” The older woman then turned her attention to everyone at the table. “I got a call from Stone and Madison today. They’re in Canada on a book-signing tour and said to tell everyone hello. They hope to be able to swing by here in a few weeks.”

“That would be wonderful,” Casey said, meaning it. She’d discovered that there had been only two females born in the Westmoreland family in her generation—her and Delaney. Delaney lived out of the country with her desert sheikh, but whenever she came to the States she made a point of contacting Casey, and had even traveled once to Beaumont to visit with her last year. But now that Delaney was pregnant her traveling had been curtailed somewhat.

Then there were the wives of her cousins she’d gotten to know. Shelly, Tara, Jayla, Dana, Jessica and Savannah were as friendly as friendly could be. And Madison claimed her as a stepsister instead of a cousin-in-law.

Deciding to completely ignore McKinnon as much as she could, she turned and struck up a conversation with Abby, who was sitting beside her. They got caught up in a discussion about the latest fashions, and who had broken up with whom in Hollywood.

As much as she tried not to overhear her father and McKinnon’s conversation, Casey couldn’t help but eavesdrop on their discussion regarding the best way to train a horse. She couldn’t believe some of the suggestions McKinnon was making. He would be a complete failure in this latest business venture of his if he were to follow through with any of them.

“It might be best if you stuck to horse breeding instead of horse training, McKinnon,” she couldn’t resist tossing in. “Anyone with any real knowledge of horse training who’s keeping abreast of the up-to-date methods would know that using a strap on a horse is no longer acceptable.”

McKinnon lifted a brow like he was taking what she said with a grain of salt. “Is that so?”

“Yes, it is so. Although pain and intimidation may have been the way years ago, things have progressed a lot since then. Trainers are using a kinder and gentler approach to communicate with horses,” she stated unequivocally. “And it’s sad that some horse owners are still under the impression that such techniques as snubbing a horse to the post or running horses in mindless circles until they’re exhausted are the way to go and still being used. “

McKinnon leaned back in his chair. “And what if you had a not-so-docile animal like Prince Charming? Or a bunch of wild horses? What would you do then?”

“Same thing since it would make no difference. However, in the case of Prince Charming, I’d say someone, and rather recently I assume, mistreated him. But luckily at one time or another, he had a nice trainer and when I began talking to him to calm him down, he remembered those kinder days. That’s the reason he didn’t hurt me. I’m against using strong-arm tactics of any kind when working with horses.”

“And I appreciate your opinion, Casey, but I have to disagree. Although I’m against anyone being outright mean and brutal to a horse, I still find the traditional way of doing things much better. And you’re right—you were lucky yesterday with Prince Charming, however, I doubt that the kinder approach is for every horse. It will be almost impossible to get Prince Charming ready for the races in the fall without using some kind of strict disciplinary method.”

“And I disagree.”

He locked eyes with her. “You have that right to disagree, Casey. But this is Montana and not Texas. We tend to do things differently here.”

“But a horse is a horse and why should you do things differently if the results could be the same?” she asked, taking a sip of her lemonade.

She was trying hard to remain nice but McKinnon was making it plum difficult. Why did the man have to be so bull headed? “It bothers me that some horse trainers are only interested in rushing a horse’s training in that quest to seek immediate gratification when all it takes is gentle, loving care. If those methods are used over a period of time, a horse will be anxious, willing and eager to give back to its owner.”

“You make it sound like a horse is almost human, Casey.”

“No, I’m not saying that but what I am saying is that when it comes to horses, there has to be a foundation of trust established upon which all further development and training must be built. Without it, training a horse like Prince Charming to do anything, especially to win a race, will be hopeless as well as impossible.”

McKinnon basically agreed with everything she’d said but he wouldn’t let her know that. He would continue playing devil’s advocate until he had her just where he wanted her.

“I think you’re wrong on that account, Casey.”

“And I think you’re too close-minded to see that I’m right.”

He lifted a brow, not taking his eyes off hers. “I dare you to prove me wrong.”

“Consider it done,” she said without thinking.

He leaned forward in his chair. “Good. And since you’re so keen on the idea of the new way of doing things, I’ll pay you fifty thousand dollars for your efforts. You have eight weeks and you’ll have to stay on my ranch in the guest house.”

Casey blinked. What was he talking about? So she asked him.

He smiled. “You just accepted the challenge to prove me wrong with Prince Charming. But if you’re not sure of your capabilities I’ll most certainly understand and let you back out of it.”

She glared at him. “I know what I’m capable of doing, McKinnon.”

“So you say but I don’t want to put you on the spot. I’ll fully understand if you decide you can’t handle things.”

Casey’s glare intensified. “When it comes to a horse, McKinnon, I can handle just about anything.”

He shrugged. “You have eight weeks to prove it.”

Casey glanced around the table at her father and Abby. They had been quiet during her and McKinnon’s entire conversation and were now staring at her. There was no way she could back out now, although a part of her felt that McKinnon had somehow deliberately set her up.

She then turned her attention back to McKinnon, glaring at him. “Fine, I’ll show you just what I can do, McKinnon Quinn. I just hope you’re ready for me.”

McKinnon leaned back in his chair. He decided not to tell Casey that if he lived to be the ripe old age of one hundred, he would never, ever be ready for her.